s of citizenship, upon the higher politics, and upon
themes of like character. They said that he was humorous. The farmers
liked to hear him speak. But it was rumored that he went to colleges,
too. The dressmaker thought that the buying of so many books was
'wicked.' 'He goes from New York to Beersheba, and from Chicago to
Dan, buying books. Never reads 'em because he hardly ever comes here.'

It became possible to identify the Bibliotaph of the country store
with a certain mature youth who some time since 'gave his friends the
slip, chose land-travel or seafaring,' and has not returned to build
the town house with proper library. They who observed him closely
thought that he resembled Heber in certain ways. Perhaps this fact
alone would justify an attempt at a verbal portrait. But the
additional circumstance that, in days when people with the slightest
excuse therefor have themselves regularly photographed, this
old-fashioned youth refused to allow his 'likeness' to be taken,--this
circumstance must do what it can to extenuate minuteness of detail in
the picture, as well as over-attention to points of which a photograph
would have taken no account.

You are to conceive of a man between thirty-eight and forty years of
age, big-bodied, rapidly acquiring that rotund shape which is thought
becoming to bishops, about six feet high though stooping a little,
prodigiously active, walking with incredible rapidity, having large
limbs, large feet, large though well-shaped and very white hands; in
short, a huge fellow physically, as big of heart as of body, and, in
the affectionate thought of those who knew him best, as big of
intellect as of heart.

His head might be described as leonine. It was a massive head, covered
with a tremendous mane of brown hair. This was never worn long, but it
was so thick and of such fine texture that it constituted a real
beauty. He had no conceit of it, being innocent of that peculiar
German type of vanity which runs to hair, yet he could not prevent
people from commenting on his extraordinary hirsute adornment. Their
occasional remarks excited his mirth. If they spoke of it again, he
would protest. Once, among a small party of his closest friends, the
conversation turned upon the subject of hair, and then upon the beauty
of _his_ hair; whereupon he cried out, 'I am embarrassed by this
unnecessary display of interest in my Samsonian assertiveness.'

He loved to tease certain of his acquaintance